SOTA c15s01
Text The night was cold and dark, the temperature plummeting and making Luna shiver in disgust beneath her armor. She, Twilight Sparkle, and Scrivener Blooms were all sitting at a table of the tavern, which didn't seem to have much in the way of insulation or heat. Celestia was at the pool table with Shining Armor, Big Mac, and Rainbow Dash, and it seemed to be doing a world to help calm the nerves of the ponies of this layer to have the golden-armored mare simply playing an easygoing game of billiards against them. It probably also helped that the strange storm had finally settled in the distance, and for now things seemed all quiet. Applejack was with Braeburn, Apple Bloom, Scarlet Sage, and Discombobulation, who were all currently back at the ranch with a few ponies and buffalo and grumbling, sour Tex. And Antares, Meadowlark, and Pinkie Pie were with the sheriff and the two ponies in total who had been brave and capable of stepping up to helping out with a patrol of the town. The population of Appleloosa was resting fitfully: most ponies had locked themselves away back home. The only real exception to the rule seemed to be the bartender behind the counter, looking calm and stoic in his starched clothes as he cleaned glasses, served ponies, and hid how nervous these armored and armed ponies made him quite well. Celestia, after all, had her sword set out atop one table, and Luna had cut herself a nice staff out of a tree branch, hardened it with magic, and then fused a large blade she'd taken from a broken pair of shears to form an ugly but undoubtedly-dangerous spear. The mishmashed weapon sat in a corner, with a few scattered, homemade explosives that Apple Bloom had put together while talking wryly about how she'd never imagined learning about Cowlick's 'hobbies' would end up being so helpful. Then Rainbow Dash cursed as Celestia sank the eight ball, before glaring over at her in frustration and saying sourly before she could stop herself: “I get this feeling that you're good at almost everything, for some reason.” “Aye, that describes my annoying big sister well. Give her a stick and she will conquer a country of knights.” Luna paused meditatively, then added thoughtfully: “Well, the stick does not really factor into the equation in that example. Celestia enjoys burning things.” “I do not.” Celestia gave her younger sibling an amused look, then she shook her head and gazed over the billiards table, adding softly as she set down her pool cue: “And it's all just math and momentum. Simple applied physics.” “I'm sure that makes them feel better, Celestia. Thy attempts at humility are only insulting to us who can see that 'tis really just Celestia talking about what a genius she is again.” Luna Brynhild said dryly, and the ivory mare sighed before her sapphire sibling added thoughtfully: “Still, I suppose thou art, and I am often less than humble myself, so... I am not one to complain. At least not on a night where there is bloodletting of the vile to be had.” Scrivener shook his head slowly, then all the ponies present glanced up at a particularly loud rumble, the stallion murmuring: “The storm must still be going on... and that noise... it must be earth-shattering up close.” “Not necessarily.” remarked the bartender, and all eyes turned curiously towards the stallion, who shrugged and calmly began to wipe down the bar as he explained: “The mountains might be magnifying the sound, and the desert is nothing but open space. Sound travels faster and further in a desert.” The stallion glanced at Celestia, who nodded once before the mare added quietly: “Either way, we'll find out what's at the root of this tomorrow evening, whether or not we find out what's going on tonight.” Luna grunted in agreement, grinning slightly as Rainbow Dash and Shining Armor both looked up, before the Pegasus asked hesitantly: “Hey, are you... are you sure that you don't want us coming with you? I mean, okay, so maybe we won't be the greatest use to you guys depending on what's out there, but... we aren't weak, either.” Celestia only smiled at this, then she shook her head slowly, saying quietly: “If I thought you were weak, I wouldn't have allowed any of you to come with us at all. But your duty is to protect your people, your Equestria. We don't know what's out there, and there's no guarantee that while we're mounting an attack on the enemy base, whatever forces have been preying on Appleloosa will all be drawn to us. It's even possible that whatever's happening out there in the wild has nothing to do with what's been happening here in town, little as I like to imagine that possibility.” Shining Armor grimaced, but he nodded all the same before finally tossing a salute to her. “And you know it's my honor to assist however I can, ma'am.” “Freya. Just Freya is fine. Or I suppose Celestia works as well, as the Princess herself isn't here.” The ivory mare paused, then she glanced over at Luna as the sapphire mare gazed up warmly. “But it's funny how used I've already gotten to Freya again.” Luna looked delighted as Twilight Sparkle gazed up with a soft smile, and Scrivener shook his head with a quiet laugh. And for a few moments, there was a peaceful silence, before Big Mac asked quietly: “What do we do if something... happens to y'all?” Shining Armor and Rainbow Dash both winced, but Big Mac looked steadily across at Celestia, who met his gaze with her own soft amethyst eyes. She understood what he meant, and why he was concerned, even if it was a question no one wanted to ask and no one wanted to consider... but if anything, that made her respect him all the more for asking it. “I don't mean any disrespect by what I'm about to say, first of all. But if my friends and I fail, and none or few of us return... you must evacuate Appleloosa immediately unless instructed otherwise. You must go to Canterlot, and warn Princess Celestia, and prepare for the worst.” “But we are not going to fail.” Luna stated quietly, looking up with confidence and nodding firmly once. “We are not about to be defeated by a group of mechanical puppets too stupid to understand their puppeteer is long dead.” Oh, if only life were so simple... Valthrudnir mocked inside Scrivener Blooms' mind, and the earth pony shifted uncomfortably as he caught a vision of the Jötnar reclining calmly back in a silver throne, a cold smile on his features. Tell me, Scrivener Blooms. Would you like me to tell your fortune? Or how about you abandon the trivialities of the real world to test your philistine mind in a short, entertaining, and... shall we say... life-affecting game against me? You don't seem overly concerned about what's going on in this layer. Scrivener Blooms thought back clearly, keeping his eyes down as Twilight Sparkle looked at him intensely, and Luna's own eyes were drawn slowly towards her husband even as she continued to boast. Here I thought you'd be telling us all how screwed we are. Valthrudnir chuckled quietly... and then Scrivener felt a painful static tear through his mind before his blood turned to ice in his veins as he felt a pair of cold hands grip into his shoulders, and his mouth went dry as he slowly looked up with a tremble to see the Jötnar was standing behind him. All fourteen feet of Valthrudnir loomed over him as the giant leaned down, down, down, to whisper softly in his ear: “Pathetic little mortal... did you ever consider that the reason I'm not proclaiming my inevitable victory in the game of war... is because these pawns you're already so terrified of are not from a game of my design?” “What?” Scrivener whirled around and almost toppled out of his chair, getting surprised looks from the other ponies, but Valthrudnir was gone. Of course the Jötnar had never been there, it had all been an illusion, but it had seemed, felt so real... Scrivener gritted his teeth as Valthrudnir laughed loudly in his mind, and then the earth pony shook his head quickly and headed towards the door, muttering awkwardly: “I just... I just need some air for a minute, sorry, I'll... I'll be right back.” Without waiting for any response, Scrivener shoved out through the doors and stumbled into the street, breathing hard... and then he flinched as he looked to the side and saw Valthrudnir leaning calmly against a wall. The vision was almost perfect, only the faintest hint of distortion visible when the ivory dragon moved as he remarked: “I can't believe I'm actually pointing this out to you, idiot mortal. I can't believe I'm being so generous as to not simply let you flounder and die a miserable death somewhere out there in the desert, with Freya and Brynhild and all the other whores...” “Shut up!” Scrivener hissed, fighting back the urge to yell as he stormed towards the illusion... then cursed in pain when Valthrudnir reached down and seized him by the scalp, yanking the earth pony's head back to glare down into his eyes before slowly pulling upwards. Or rather, it felt like pulling, as his nerves cried out and his skin crawled, but his mane wasn't torn out of his scalp and he wasn't lifted onto his hooves. Yet all the same, Scrivener found himself trying to stretch his head higher, as if that would quell the agony in his skull as the dragon said distastefully: “Do not raise your voice to me. It's becoming easier and easier for me to manipulate your physiology, especially as you grow more anxious and your oh-so-volatile feral little emotions start to get out of control. And with how violently you react when I so much as choose to speak to you, it's almost as if your undisciplined mind desires for me to break it into little pieces... or perhaps it's more a betrayal of your body, which while animal and crude still recognizes the abuses you lead it into on a regular basis thanks to the guidance of your faulty mentality.” “You could have spared yourself about fifty words there by just saying 'you're stupid...' stupid.” Scrivener retorted... and then Valthrudnir snarled and slammed a loafer-clad foot up into Scrivener's throat, and the earth pony choked as he felt a blast of pain run through his neck and his throat clench. He stumbled a little, but no force had accompanied the blow, only pain: it was like Valthrudnir had learned to affect his nerves, to make him feel things where he struck, but of course there was no real force behind any of them. It was just pain, it was just his own nervous system being hijacked and rewired by the monstrous Jötnar as Valthrudnir asked icily: “Now would you like a demonstration of what it feels like if I reach into your chest and squeeze your heart? Your nervous system is very, very primitive, and very easy to tamper with. To me, you're nothing but a set of piano keys I can play however I want to get what I desire.” Scrivener glared up at him the Jötnar, who looked back down at him darkly, before the stallion lowered his head and muttered: “So you can hurt me. Big deal. Everyone already beats on me anyway. Besides, the imagery of you wanting to play me like a piano is much more disturbing to me.” The dragon wrinkled his muzzle in disgust, but then he took a slow breath before calmly crossing his arms, saying softly: “I think you fail to grasp one important piece of information here with your insectile mind, and your inability to work through the simplest of logic problems. If I so desire, I can take away your sight. I can remove your ability to hear. I can nullify your emotions-” “No, you can't.” Scrivener muttered, and when Valthrudnir narrowed his amber eyes dangerously, the stallion looked coldly up and said quietly: “If you could really modify my emotions however you wanted, you wouldn't be working so hard to put me in stress circles, or screwing with me like this. You'd just break my mind and take over.” “Well, very good, you graduated to making preschool level logical deductions.” Valthrudnir said sourly, spreading his arms wide and leaning down with a look of disgust. “Would you like a gold star for that, mortal? Or how about an extra five minutes of nap-time?” “I'll just take an extra cookie at recess, thank you.” Scrivener replied acidly, and the two glared at each other before Scrivener took a slow breath, then closed his eyes and muttered: “You won't kill me. I know you won't kill me. And I know it's not just because you're too egotistical to allow yourself to die, even if killing yourself took out me and Luna and Twilight. It's because you want me to suffer.” “Yes, those are two of my primary reasons for keeping you alive. That, and when I do escape...” The Jötnar visibly bit back his words, then he cursed in disgust before muttering to himself. “No, enough. Believe it or not, pony... I'm coming to you with olive branch extended.” “Are you going to whip me with it? Because I'm not into that.” Scrivener said dryly, looking moodily up at the dragon. “Also, any branch you bring me isn't real, so it's a nice gesture and all but... I'll pass.” Valthrudnir visibly twitched, a seething snarl spreading over his face before he clenched his hands into fists. “It's a metaphor, you pathetic, ignorant little wretch!” “Yeah, I know. And I was responding to your metaphor, actually.” Scrivener replied, looking moodily up at Valthrudnir, who stared at him before Scrivener asked in a falsely-kind voice: “Oh, did I go over your poor head? Here, let me explain. I said 'any branch you bring me isn't real,' yes? Well, that's also a metaphor, and it's for you being a big fat liar. Just like when I say 'I'll pass,' what I really mean is fu-” Valthrudnir backhanded the earth pony, and the pain that blasted through Scrivener's mind was so savage it made him cry out and stagger to the side, tripping over his own hooves and falling to the dirt with a curse. His entire brain felt afire with agony as he shivered violently on the ground, gurgling weakly before his eyes widened in shock as he realized that while every part of his face and head and brain felt like they just been shoved through a wood chipper, his tongue had gone completely numb. It felt like a dead worm in his mouth, and Scrivener shivered and moaned weakly before he slowly forced his head up... and while the pain from his sparking nerves was slowly throbbing down, his tongue remained limp and stupid, the pony accidentally biting it and only noticing because his jaws refused to close all the way. Then he stared up at the dragon as Valthrudnir smiled coldly at him, polishing his claws against his suit as he said derisively: “What's wrong, Nihete? Don't you have some witty remark to make? Some sophisticated banter? One of your ever-famous intelligent points about how you're not actually a drooling little maggot happily gorging yourself upon the feces of society?” Valthrudnir cupped one side of his head as if pretending to listen, and Scrivener glared furiously up at the dragon before the Jötnar snorted derisively and straightened, adjusting the lapels of his suit and saying dismissively: “But I've wasted enough time generously entertaining the foolish notion that you are worthy of even my ridicule. Rather, Nihete, shut up like a good little puppet and listen to me.” Scrivener Blooms snarled... or rather, he tried to. What came out instead was a gurgling, half-choked growl around his useless tongue, and the dragon simply ignored this as he continued calmly: “You see, Nihete... while we do not share the most tenable position in the Nine Worlds, and loathe as I am to admit this, I would rather be alive – even trapped in an ignorant and stupid philistine like yourself, whom I have such delight in debating – than dead and gone. And unfortunately, I cannot currently think of a better place where to safeguard myself. After all, here I maintain some important control over your – rather, our, as it unfortunately has become – shared body, and I am also safe from the Valkyries and other unpleasantries. “But as you and Brynhild continue to throw yourselves mindlessly into danger, putting yourselves at risk for complete strangers...” Valthrudnir didn't try to hide his disgust or disdain, which just made Scrivener snarl further. “Unfortunately, I am faced with a paradox. Do I assist you, the pony who would so arrogantly hold me as his archnemesis, even though by no means is a wretched, cheating little mortal animal worthy of being called my antithesis, no matter whether or not his bride is a Valkyrie whore-” Scrivener spun around and began to stride off, cursing in a muffled voice and shaking his head angrily back and forth, and Valthrudnir only snorted in disdain before he began to quickly stride after the charcoal stallion, saying disgustedly: “I am inside your mind, moron. You cannot simply walk away from this discussion.” The earth pony turned with a muffled roar around his numbed tongue and flung himself at Valthrudnir, but he only passed uselessly through his legs, doing nothing but distorting the illusion slightly before he flopped to the road with a grunt, shivering on the dirt street before he clenched his eyes tightly shut. And as he lay there, aware of the Jötnar's image standing behind him and looking down at him coldly and impatiently, he had to fight back the tears wanting to form in his eyes and swallow down pain far worse than the physical agonies the monster had put him through. Here he lay, beaten by a ghost in his mind that wouldn't stop talking, wouldn't shut up, and held some mysterious agenda over him and his family. Here he lay, unable to do or say anything to save himself, or fight back against this goddamned monster. He couldn't even scream properly now, he couldn't hurt him, he couldn't escape him, he was powerless. And feeling powerless again made him feel like the little worthless foal he had been. The little stupid, useless child that Bramblethorn had told him again and again he was, and behind him was standing his tormentor, a stupid bully who thought he was better than everyone else, just like his father... and just like his father, someone who no matter what Scrivener did, would always be see him as scum, he would always be beneath, and he would be made to feel that way each and every single day. There was no escaping it. No escaping the garden shop, or his childhood. No escaping the fact he was just a stupid slave hoof. And whether he was Scrivener Blooms, published warrior poet from Looking Glass Equestria, or Nihete, tyrannical Clockwork Pony created by Valthrudnir for who knew what ends... either way, he was just goddamn... worthless. He clenched his eyes shut... then twitched in surprise as behind him, Valthrudnir said quietly: “I would not create a worthless object.” Slowly, Scrivener looked silently over his shoulder, and the Jötnar looked moodily down at the stallion, his amber eyes regarding him coldly and strangely before he reached awkwardly up and rubbed slowly at his neck. Then the dragon bared his teeth in a frustrated look, turning his eyes away and saying disgustedly: “Oh, glorious, Nihete is crying. Yes, that goes to truly prove what an incredible success you have been.” Scrivener slowly picked himself up, shaking himself out as he realized the pain had faded away and he could feel his tongue again. He worked his jaws a few times slowly, looking nervously up at Valthrudnir, and the dragon only looked contemptibly back down... but there was discomfort in his amber eyes as well, as he said irritably: “Just get up on your wretched little hooves, pathetic little pony, keep your mouth closed and your ears open, I do not have the time or energy to deal with your weak little emotional outbursts.” The stallion grimaced, shivering once as hatred and fury and despair all tangled and twisted inside of him, before he finally forced himself to take a slow breath and calm down. He had almost lost it there for a moment, and it wouldn't've done anything but make his situation worse. And yet even in the depths of his pain and frustration and all the other stresses Scrivener was feeling right now, he felt... confused, too. He kept looking at Valthrudnir in the corner of his eye, and the dragon – for once – wasn't monologuing even though there was clearly nothing Scrivener could do to stop him. He was just silent, looking like he was gathering his thoughts, maybe even struggling with something. They looked at each other warily, and then Valthrudnir suddenly said abruptly: “I am not a bully. Ymir was nothing but a bully, always pushing his ideas and disregarding all my own, no matter how superior they were. I will not be compared to him.” Scrivener frowned slowly, and then Valthrudnir added disgustedly: “And in the interests of survival, I seem to have no choice except to warn you, insect, in the smallest words I can muster: this is not my doing. Whatever is out there... it is not of my personal design. My designs do not attract attention unless attention is meant to be attracted.” The stallion was silent, and then Valthrudnir reached up and adjusted his bolo tie. Scrivener frowned as he studied the figure of the Jötnar, and then he asked finally, as the white-scaled entity's hands drew away from the wolf-head clasp: “Why do you still wear Ymir's seal if you hated him so much?” Valthrudnir's only response was to moodily raise a hand and snap his fingers, vanishing from sight, and Scrivener sighed tiredly as he slumped a little. He began to turn towards the doors... and then his ears pricked up and a chill ran through his body as he heard... something. There was something carrying through the night air. Something that he couldn't quite lock on to. Something that sounded like... a voice, the words rising and falling in pitch, but inaudible. And whatever the hell it was, it sounded like it was coming from the other side of town. Luna ran out the door a moment later, spear at the ready, followed by Celestia and Twilight Sparkle. Shining Armor was the next to run out after them, the stallion frowning worriedly as he asked: “What is it? Is something here?” “Quiet.” Celestia instructed, and Shining Armor fell silent even as Big Mac and Rainbow Dash both appeared in the doorway, before the ivory mare closed her eyes and bowed her head forwards. Luna and Scrivener looked at her apprehensively while Twilight stared out towards the source of the noise, as the mare took a slow breath, concentrating on the sound. “It's coming from... yes. If Antares is on schedule, his patrol will encounter it.” Celestia said quietly, and when Luna gritted her teeth and began to step forwards, the ivory mare immediately reached out and caught her by the shoulder, saying softly: “No. We have to wait here. We don't know what they're up against, but trust in your son. He's strong.” “It is not that I do not trust in him, Celestia... it is that I do not desire to see him hurt, or leave him without assistance, should he need it.” Luna replied sharply, and Scrivener shifted uneasily before the sapphire mare cursed under her breath, looking up at her sister almost pleadingly. “He is my son! I must go to him and-” “And you are my sister. You were all my sisters, when I led the Valkyries. Yet sometimes I had to stay back and let you fight alone, and couldn't interfere. Some things... we must do on our own. Give him a chance.” Celestia said gently, and then she looked up silently as a loud scream echoed through the night, Luna's eyes blazing and Scrivener gritting his teeth as Twilight Sparkle trembled. “I know it's hard. But he needs this chance.” Luna cursed under her breath, but closed her eyes and nodded even as Twilight bit her lip and looked fearfully forwards again, and Scrivener didn't know what to even think as he gazed almost desperately down the street, towards the source of the noise... towards, where on the far side of town, Antares Mīrus was standing at the ready in the middle of the dusty street, a weathered church on one side and an abandoned schoolhouse on the other. Meadowlark swallowed thickly, but held her own as Pinkie Pie looked back and forth fearfully, breathing hard. The sheriff and the two ponies they had rounded up to help were staring around and trembling in terror, and Antares cursed as that screaming sounded again, the horrible voice rising and falling as it howled incoherent words, seeming to come from everywhere around them at once. “Defensive formation!” Antares ordered sharply over his shoulder, and then he grimaced when the sheriff only looked at him stupidly. “Draw your weapons, turn around! Back-to-back, form a circle, keep your eyes open!” The sheriff fumbled his rifle off his back, breathing hard as he did so, no longer questioning the stallion or his youth with the crispness of Antares' voice. The other two stallions did the same as well: one of them had his own carbine, while the other had a crossbow. Meadowlark, meanwhile, quickly reached up and adjusted the rawhide and wood bracer around one foreleg, ensuring it was secure before a thin, dangerous needle sprung out of the top, the Pegasus grimacing as she looked apprehensively back and forth. Pinkie Pie, meanwhile, was trying to shrink back a little, but Antares quickly leaned towards her, saying quietly: “Just keep your eyes open, and I won't let anything happen to you. But all of you, we have to keep our eyes open, and-” “How my blood boils in my veins, thirsting for revenge! Oh, pale moon, grant me strength, and shine down your curse on those who have wronged me!” the voice screamed, and Antares snarled at the jagged rhythm of its words, suddenly distinguishable, suddenly... close. It's close, but where the hell is it? “Oh, for, f-for love, they say, but it was not love, but the filthy ego that did compel him to s-s-steal her from me!” The last word broke off into a scream, and then lunatic, raving laughter that echoed all around them, and then Antares cursed under his breath before he shouted: “Come out, whoever you are! Surrender peacefully and you will not be harmed!” He was only greeted by silence... and Antares frowned as the entire world seemed to go still for a few moments. The stallion's eyes flicked back and forth, and then he nervously took a few steps away from the group, reaching up a hoof at the same time to signal for them to stay in position. The silence spiraled out for almost a minute, and then Antares looked up with a curse as a loud clanging filled the air, and the stallions jumped, the sheriff firing off his rifle into the air and falling over as Pinkie shrieked. But it was only the bell of the church, ringing loudly away, and Antares glared at this, striding towards the broken fencing around the church and looking up at the listing tower. Then he shook his head slowly and turned around, seeing Pinkie and Meadowlark, and the two stallions, and... Antares stumbled, then his mouth fell open and a shiver went through his body as one of the stallions slowly looked to the side, before falling backwards with a whimper. Meadowlark looked just as shocked, and Pinkie paled, shaking her head wildly as the last stallion only looked blankly around. The sheriff's rifle lay on the ground, but the stallion himself was gone... gone, except for a splatter of blood on the ground. No one had heard or seen or sensed anything, despite him being right there, next to them, and Antares breathed hard in and out as he felt a cold shiver of fear run through his body, whispering as the bell continued to toll: “That... no... that can be possible...” But all that greeted him in return was silence, and the sight of the fallen, blood-smeared rifle; the undeniable reality of what had happened, no matter how impossible it seemed. Top ↑